Unknown number

Unknown number
ASHER POV

A FEW DAYS EARLIER

Some wounds don’t heal… they sharpen. I didn’t mean to push her that hard.

That’s what I told myself.

That’s what I keep telling myself.

But the truth?

The truth is I wanted to wipe that look off her face.

That calm, controlled, untouchable expression Benedykta Rebel always wore like armor.

Like she owned everything.

Like she deserved everything.

It happened too fast.

One second she was standing there, arguing with me in front of the board like she always did measured, composed, irritatingly perfect.

The next my hand was on her shoulder.And I pushed.

Harder than I should have. Her body stumbled backward, heels slipping against the polished floor. For a brief second, our eyes locked.

There was no anger in hers.

No fear.

Just… disappointment and I hated that more than anything.

Then crack.

The sound echoed in the boardroom as her head hit the marble floor.

Everything stopped.Completely.

Her body went still.

Too still.

“Ben!”

Voices erupted around me, but they sounded distant like I was underwater.

I stared at her.

At the way her hair fanned out beneath her.

At the thin line of blood slowly trailing from her temple.

She wasn’t moving.

She wasn’t dead was she?

I didn't kill her.

No.

No, no, no.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“She’s unconscious!”

“Call an ambulance!”

Someone rushed past me, dropping to their knees beside her.

Another person shoved me out of the way.

I didn’t resist.

Didn’t react.

I just stood there.

Watching.

As if my body had forgotten how to function.

By the time they carried her out, the room felt colder.

Empty.Like something had been ripped out of it.

Or maybe… out of me.

I didn’t follow them.

I didn’t go to the hospital.

I didn’t ask if she was okay.

I stayed right there.

Because if I moved, I’d have to admit what I’d done.

And I wasn’t ready for that.

The doors opened sometime later.

I didn’t need to turn around to know who had walked in.

You could feel his presence.

My grandfather.

The man who built this empire.

The man who decided who mattered—and who didn’t.

I slowly turned.

His eyes landed on me immediately.

Cold.

Sharp.

Disappointed.

Familiar.

“What you did today,” he said, his voice dangerously calm, “was unacceptable.”

I let out a bitter laugh.

“Unacceptable?” I repeated. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“You assaulted her.”

“She provoked me.”

The words came out faster than I intended.

But I didn’t take them back.

I wouldn’t.

“You all saw it,” I continued. “You saw how she talks to me. Like I’m beneath her. Like I don’t belong here.”

"I'm the rightful heir of the Rebels family and she's just a mere girl born from a common prostitute who was handed what rightfully belongs to me."

He remained silent.

Of course.No one was going to defend me.

They never did.

“For your actions,” he said, cutting through the tension like a blade, “you are suspended from New Way Group. Effective immediately.”

Just like that.

No hesitation.

No discussion.

Just… done.

My jaw tightened.

“You’re choosing her?” I asked, my voice low.

“I am choosing what is right.”

I scoffed.

“Right?” I shook my head slowly. “No. You’re choosing the lie you built your empire on. You’re choosing some girl who isn't even your own blood."

His expression didn’t change.

That made it worse. I walked out before anyone could say anything else.

Because if I stayed any longer I wasn’t sure what I’d do next.

Outside, the air hit me like a slap.

Cold.

Sharp.

Real.

Unlike everything that just happened inside.

I ran a hand through my hair, pacing along the sidewalk like a caged animal.

“She took everything,” I muttered.

And I meant it.

The company.

The respect.

The family.

The place that should have been mine.

And no matter what I did.No matter how hard I fought she was still the one they chose.

Always.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

I glanced down, irritated.

Unknown number.

I almost ignored it.

Almost.

But something made me open it.

"If you want to get back at her… I can help you."

I frowned.

A prank?

A setup?

I looked around instinctively, half-expecting someone to be watching me.

No one was.

Just people passing by.

Living their lives.

Unaware.

Unbothered.

My thumb hovered over the screen.

I should ignore it.

I knew I should.

But the anger inside me…

The humiliation…

The way she looked at me like I was nothing It pushed me.

"How?"

The reply came instantly.

Too instantly.

A file appeared on my screen.

No explanation.

No message.

Just… a file.

I opened it.

And everything changed.

An article loaded.

Old.

Years old.

But still very much alive.

“Billionaire Heiress in Scandalous Affair with Future Father-in-Law”

I blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then I scrolled.

Images.

Blurry, but clear enough.

A still frame from a video.

Her and him.

Ambrose.

Too close.

Too intimate.

Too real.

My lips parted slightly.

“So this is her,” I murmured.

This was the woman they defended so fiercely.

The woman who stood in that boardroom like she was above everyone else.

Untouchable.

Perfect.

She was a whore just like her mother.

A slow smile spread across my face.

Cold.

Sharp.

Satisfied.

“You’re not so perfect after all… are you, Ben?”

I didn’t hesitate.

Not this time.

I made a call.

“I need you to dig something up,” I said the moment the line connected.

The journalist on the other end sounded bored at first.

Until I mentioned her name and the scandal.And the money.

That got his attention.

By the next morning few the next morning the world was burning.

Notifications flooded my phone.

Articles.

Headlines.

Videos.

Comments.

“CEO’s Scandal Returns Affair with Father and Son Resurfaces”

“New Way Group in Crisis as Leader’s Controversial Past Goes Viral”

“From Boardroom to Bedroom: The Truth About Benedykta Rebel”

I leaned back in my chair, scrolling through it all.

Every word.

Every insult.

Every judgment.

Ugly names.

Harsh opinions.

Brutal commentary.

The world was tearing her apart.

And for the first time she wasn’t in control.

A strange feeling settled in my chest.

Not guilt.

Not regret.

Relief.

Finally…she knew what it felt like.

To be exposed.

To be judged.

To be less than.

My phone buzzed again.

The unknown number.

"This is just the beginning."

I stared at the message for a long moment.

Then I smiled.

“Good,” I said quietly.

Because for the first time since I walked into that building…I wasn’t the one losing.

And Benedykta Rebel?

She was about to learn that some pasts don’t stay buried no matter how hard you try.